This blog documents the journey of Marla Crider, a 60 year-old travel professional from Little Rock, Arkansas, as she battles a breast cancer called invasive ductal carcinoma (stage 3). From the moment of her diagnosis, she chronicles her experience. Be forewarned this blog may provide a raw glimpse into the author’s psyche and ability to deal with a life threatening challenge. Hopefully, her honesty and humor will provide advice and help to others who find themselves in a crusade of their own.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Taxol Renders Quite a Punch!

My sixth chemotherapy treatment was scheduled in mid August
and began like the previous five…blood work, followed by an appointment with my
magician of an oncologist, Dr. Issam Makhoul, and then my three-hour encounter
with intravenous poison.

Marla receiving her 2nd Taxol treatment. Only
two more to go!

My brother Mike and sister-in-law Barbara drove from Northwest Arkansas to be with me for the treatment.I can’t emphasize enough how important and
meaningful it has been to have my family surround me with love and support as I
battle breast cancer.Mike and my middle
brother, Marion, alternate trips to Little
Rock every other week to ensure that I have family
around each time I must endure another chemo treatment. I’m convinced they, and my beloved Don, are
the reasons I have been able to tolerate the chemotherapy drugs with minimal
side effects.My family and countless
friends have all contributed to my positive state of mind, which is extremely
important in fighting cancer.

When Mike, Barb and I arrived at the UAMS Cancer Institute,
we were handed face masks as soon as we entered the building and instructed to
wear them as long as we were in the cancer wing.A flu
epidemic was spreading throughout the multiple myeloma section of the hospital and
in order to contain the sickness, the public was asked to wear masks to minimize
spreading germs.Multiple myeloma
patients undergoing chemotherapy virtually have no immune system because the
treatment destroys the patients' bone marrow.The flu can be extremely dangerous to all cancer patients in treatment
but especially to those with multiple myeloma.

The three of us donned our face masks and made our way to
the infusion clinic where I awaited my turn for the blood draw.It was an odd scene when we entered the
waiting area.Every person in the room
was wearing a mask, just like us.We
were all trying to do our part to control the flu epidemic and protect my
fellow cancer patients. I learned quickly that sporting a face mask escalates
hot flashes.My inclination was to rip
the mask off my face and fan myself with it, but I didn’t.Instead, I let the abundant perspiration drip
off my chin and catch in the trough created by my bra, which was quickly
becoming saturated.Bras serve multiple
functions and sweat-catcher is one of them.

As I fanned myself furiously with a magazine, I heard a
nurse call my name from the infusion room door.I was anxious to follow her into the (always) frigid treatment
room.Before I could reach my cool
destination, I had to step on the scales and check my weight.I had only lost a half pound and was still in
the “safe” category. I was delighted
when the nurse told me I didn’t have to wear the mask in the infusion area
because it was super sterilized. It only took me a second to remove the
hot, contraption from my face.I
immediately began to cool down.The
nurse, who was unfamiliar to me, escorted me to a vacant recliner and began
preparing for the blood draw.Like a
broken record, I told her about my port-on-nerve situation and requested that
she not insert the needle until I took a deep breath.She agreed.Thank goodness, our in-unison approach produced pain-free port
access.Since learning about the deep
breathing method a few weeks earlier, I no longer dreaded the blood draw.It was now just a routine part of treatment
day.

After collecting four vials of blood, I was dismissed from
the infusion center and told to pull the protective mask over my nose before
re-entering the waiting area to meet my entourage.Masks in place, my group took the elevator seven
floors up for my appointment with Dr. Makhoul.As we exited the elevator, there were dozens of people in the clinic
lobby all wearing white or yellow face masks and doing their part to eradicate
the flu epidemic.We found chairs
together and began the wait. Surprisingly, I was called back to Dr. Makhoul’s
exam area within 30 minutes.It was
another 20 minutes before the very busy doctor rushed into the cubicle to give
me a hug. We bantered with ease about my remarkable response to the
chemotherapy.I was quick to give him credit for
my progress because of his genius as an oncologist.He is a humble man who uncomfortably accepts
compliments. I would have expected
nothing less.

Dr. Makhoul was very curious how I handled the first infusion
of Taxol.I told him about the severe
bone and joint pain, as well as the serious diarrhea.He encouraged me to take the pain tablets –
Tramadol – that he had prescribed to reduce the musculoskeletal discomfort. He also instructed me to use Imodium, an over
the counter anti-diarrheal medication for the first few days after chemo to help
eliminate the symptoms. I assured him that I would.

He was anxious to examine me and check the size of the tumor
after just one treatment of Taxol.He
used his handy dandy scale to measure the mass.He looked up at me with a grin and said, “We’ve come along way from the
5.6 centimeters when we started.There
has been a significant reduction to 2.2 centimeters.”I was overwhelmed with joy and felt reassured
that that the tumor might actually shrink to nothingness.

Dr. Makhoul quickly signed my chemo orders and told me he
was very proud of me.I told him it was because
we had a great doctor-patient relationship.And I do believe that.I’m
convinced that if you don’t have faith in your medical team, the results of the
chemotherapy might not be as effective.

Marla Crider with her brother, Mike Crider, at UAMS.

Mike, Barbara, Don and I returned to the infusion center and
waited to be called back to the room where the magic happens.Everyone in the waiting area was wearing a
face mask, including all of us. As soon as I sat down, beads of perspiration began rolling down my
face, neck and back.I immediately
started fanning myself with a magazine.I
had decided the mask was making me feel slightly claustrophobic, which was
triggering the hot flashes. Just for a
few short moments I dropped the mask below my chin and began to immediately
cool off.It was at that time, the nurse
called my name.Thank goodness, I could
remove the mask once I got beyond the infusion room door… and I did just
that.What a relief!

Barbara accompanied me to my assigned recliner and observed
the nurse as she prepared me for the treatment process.Yet another new RN would be overseeing my
treatment.I learned that Mr. Nurse
Ratched was attending a conference as were four other nurses I had come to know.I rather missed them.

My new caregiver provided me with three more steroid tablets
(five total for the day) to prevent nausea. (No wonder I was restless and felt as though I
could dance on the ceiling.) In addition, the nurse injected Pepcid into my
intravenous tubing to help calm my stomach before the Taxol was administered.Following the Pepcid, she injected Benadryl into
my port to prevent an allergic reaction to the Taxol.As soon as the Benadryl reached my veins I felt
a “rush” of sorts and started laughing uncontrollably for about three minutes.My laughter was contagious as others around
me started laughing, as well. Once my giggles were under control, the bag of poison
was hung from the intravenous pole and the treatment began. A few minutes
after the Taxol entered my system, my right breast started tingling.The poison had already found its way to the
cancer-ridden mass.It was a rather
remarkable feeling. For the next three hours, my family alternated positions as my support team in the infusion room. It certainly helps pass the time when conversation is exchanged.

I experienced no allergic reactions during the treatment and
completed the process feeling pretty good.Before leaving the infusion room, the nurse handed me two days worth of
steroids to keep the nausea at bay.While
steroids are a God-send when it comes to the prevention of nausea and vomiting
during chemotherapy, the medication also contributes to insomnia and wreaks
havoc on diabetes.After six treatments,
I had finally learned how to adjust my insulin to compensate for the extremely
high blood sugars. As for the insomnia,
nothing much helps with that inconvenience.

The day following the treatment, the diarrhea returned but I
was able to curtail the seriousness of it by taking Imodium as soon as I had
the first episode.On day three the bone
and joint pain returned with a vengeance.The discomfort in my hips, lower back, knees and shins was debilitating
and lasted three consecutive days.As
much as I deplore taking pain medication, I had no choice.It was my only source of comfort.I managed to go to work but not without a
couple of Tramadol tablets to get me through the day.By the seventh day after the Taxol treatment,
the bone pain had finally subsided and I was (somewhat) back to normal. No matter how uncomfortable the side effects
may be, I admittedly welcome them as proof that the chemo treatments are doing
exactly what they are designed to do – kill the cancer.And if that means I might have to endure a
few throbbing bones and a bout of diarrhea, then so be it.My goal of being cancer free is just two
treatments away.And I can tolerate
anything for that along.

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About Me

Marla Crider, a 60 year-old travel professional from Little
Rock, Arkansas, is blogging her battle with invasive ductal carcinoma or in layman’s terms –
breast cancer. From the moment she discovers the lurking lump in her right
breast, she apprehensively chronicles her thoughts and emotions for public
scrutiny. Be forewarned that these postings may provide a raw glimpse into the
author’s psyche and ability to deal with a life threatening challenge. Hopefully,
Marla’s honesty, humor, and prose approach of dealing with her diagnosis and
subsequent treatment plan will help others who find themselves in a crusade of
their own. You may follow her journey here: www.MarlaCrider.com . Marla has lived and worked previously in Fayetteville, Arkansas and Hot Springs, Arkansas.

Invasive Ductal Carcinoma: What is it?

Invasive ductal carcinoma (IDC) is the most common form of invasive breast cancer. It accounts for 80% of breast cancer incidence upon diagnosis, according to statistics from the U.S. in 2004. On a mammogram, it is usually visualized as a mass with fine spikes radiating from the edges. On physical examination, the lump usually feels much harder or firmer than benign breast lesions such as fibroadenoma. On microscopic examination, the cancerous cells invade and replace the surrounding normal tissues.

Mammograms

Breast tissue is composed of fatty (nondense) tissue and connective (dense) tissue. Radiologists use a grading system to describe the density of breast tissue based on the proportion of fat to connective tissue. There are four levels of density that are detected by mammograms: Level 1 (a very fatty breast), level 2 (fatty tissue makes up more than 50 percent of breast), level 3 (dense tissue makes up more than 50 percent of the breast) and level 4 (a very dense breast with very little fat). Click the image above for more information from the Mayo Clinic.

Get a Breast Cancer Screening

Click map to find a screening site near you.

All original content copyright (c) 2013, Marla F. Crider and marlacrider.com. You are free to share (copy, distribute and transmit) content from this site with attribution to marlacrider.com.